Little bit country, LITTLE ROCK n' roll

Man and I left today for our next road trip adventure, this time to Little Rock, Arkansas. The number one question we get is "why?!" which makes me feel bad for Little Rock. The answer is this guy:

That's P. Allen Smith. He's a TV show host, grew up in Tennessee, and uses his Arkansas home, Moss Mountain Farm, which The New York Times hails as a “stunning estate,” as an epicenter for promoting the local food movement, organic gardening and the preservation of heritage poultry breeds. You can visit the estate where he lives and tapes his show, enjoy tours, demonstrations and an estate-style lunch on the grounds. That's what we're doing tomorrow. 

Today, we stopped in Memphis and visited Ikea and the Pottery Barn and Williams-Sonoma Outlets, we screamed like little girls when a rock flew up and cracked our windshield, we had dessert at both lunch and dinner and didn't feel one ounce guilty (or heavier), we got settled in our adorable Air BnB, and we enjoyed dinner at Samantha's Tap Room. Delicious!

Lunch at the Ikea cafeteria

Kitchen at our house

One of the homes' bathrooms. Such a charming home. Original wood floors, solid wood doors, original plaster walls, high ceilings. And this claw foot tub. Love. 

My

Thursday Thoughts

Today is the last Thursday of February, the shortest month of the year, or as I like to call it, “spwinter.” Here in middle Tennessee, especially during transitional times of the seasons, we just never really know what to expect. Tennessee has long been heralded for its mild climate and four-season weather, however what visitors and transplants aren’t told is that during transition times, when one season is ending and another beginning, we often experience all of the seasons at once. Yesterday, it was almost 70 degrees and sunny. People were walking their dogs and their kids, enjoying being outside in short sleeves and throwing frisbees at both. Today? We’re back in UGGs and parkas with a high of 43. ’Tis the season for layers and a punchy “roll with it” attitude. 

I think of my geographic ancestors, namely the Cherokee who inhabited my little corner of the southeast United States and called this area “Tanasi” 500 or so years ago, and I wonder if they, too, dealt with such climate conundrums. Did they take off to gather food or spar with another tribe and pack extra animal skins in case the weather fluctuated wildly from one day to the next? Was the chief saying to his wife, “come on, we’ve got to go, everyone is waiting!” and she replied “I’m looking for my fur-lined moccasins. I want to have them just in case?”

Well, enough waxing poetic on weather. Here are my highlights for you.

Essie Nail Polish & Speed Setter

I used to be an OPI girl. Then I spent way too much time and money getting gel manicures. Then I went au naturel to get them back healthy again, but that was kind of boring so I discovered Essie and it's been a game changer. I do it myself, it's cheap and easy and anyone can do it. I recommend pairing an Essie polish with their signature "Speed Setter" top coat. This stuff is amazing. No base coat required. Just swipe on two coats of your favorite Essie color, waiting 2-5 minutes in between. Then one coat of Speed Setter and you're good to go in five minutes. I know. I don't just toss about a phrase like "game changer." I mean, in 15 minutes or less, you can go from drab and boring to polished and going potty or digging in your purse. It doesn't get easier than that, girls.

My favorite colors?

My go to is "Without a Stitch." It's a purply gray and works year 'round.

For a bit deeper color, "Chinchilly" is still a purply gray but just a little darker than "Without a Stitch."

"Ballet Slippers" is your classic, neutral pink.

And "Bordeaux" is a lovely burgundy that will serve you well from the first chilly night in fall all the way through winter.

To complete your at-home salon experience, I recommend a nail brush to clean under and around nails, invest in a good emory board for shaping, a buffer block for smoothing the nail surface and preparing it for polish, and I only use 100% acetone polish remover - no time for anything else. A little dab'll do ya.

Audrey Hepburn

Well, Daddy and I enjoyed another Mobituary, Mo Rocca's lovely podcast, today, and it was on Audrey Hepburn. I learned some things about her that I'll share that you might not have known either:

• She was 5'7" and wore a size 10-10.5 shoe. But that waist remained a steady 20."
• She survived WWII and the Nazis. Barely. Her parents were fascist, Nazi sympathizers though she was always part of the Resistance. She almost didn't survive Nazi-occupied Holland.
• She died on the same day as Bill Clinton's inauguration and her passing went mostly unnoticed in the shadow of this other event.
• She and Katherine Hepburn are not related. Not even a little bit.
• She's a member of the elite EGOT club, having won an Emmy, a Golden Globe, an Oscar and a Tony.
• She wasn't Truman Capote's first choice to play Holly Golightly. Like all the Kennedys, he had his sights on Marilyn Monroe but her acting coach advised her not to take the roll of a "lady of the evening."
• She and Anne Frank (yes, that Anne Frank) led extremely similar lives and were born the same year. Anne's father, Otto, once traveled to Audrey to ask her to play Anne in a movie and she politely refused saying simply that she had lived through the horror once and that was one time too many as it was.

Otto Frank, Audrey Hepburn and Otto's second wife, Elfriede Geiringer 

"It's that wonderful old-fashioned idea that others come first and you come second. This was the whole ethic by which I was brought up. Others matter more than you do, so don't fuss dear; get on with it." 

--Audrey Hepburn 

Voxer

Voxer is an app and if you talk on the phone or text with a friend daily (or wish you could), then you need this app. It's hard to describe but I'm going to try. It's like a verbal text. They describe it as a "walkie-talkie" app and that might work, too. My bestie, Man, and I use it almost daily in place of texting. It's nice because you can say more than you might over text but the recipient still has the ability to control when and where they listen, unlike a traditional phone call or voice mail.

Here's an example of a Vox between us:

Person #1:  "Oh my goodness. I just tried to go to Fresh Market to get the Meal of the Week and couldn't find a parking spot!"

Person #2: "That stinks. Publix has their organic chicken breasts on sale for $2.99/pound."

Hey, it's not prolific. Just a really neat way of communicating with another human without having to actually talk to them. And it's free.

Milk Bone Treat Ball

Picked up one of these for each of our pups. One loved it and figured it out in a couple of minutes. The other decided it was just too much work.

Eye Pillow

I bought this little eye pillow at a local day spa several years ago, but it's available on the Nordstrom website. It has the softest, removable cover and houses an insert filled with flaxseed and lavender. It smells heavenly and I like the weight of it as compared to a traditional eye mask. I fall asleep with it most nights covering my face and wake up with it under me or over by the pup. She would prefer the beef flavored one, but it didn't sell well at the salon.

Finally, February is Heart Health Month. Here are some ways you can spread the love:

Donate to the American Heart Association  

Take a CPR course. Did you know that mouth-to-mouth is no longer recommended as part of basic CPR? That sound you hear is all of us germaphobes sighing in relief. Find a class near you.

Know the signs of heart disease. 

Quit smoking. Like, seriously, today.

Follow the Heart Association’s guidelines for healthy eating.

Thursday Thoughts

Thursday is my day off so it seems like a good day for a blog post. As the new year is underway, I thought I’d share a few of my current favorite things.

London Fog

A friend recently turned me onto a hot tea-based beverage known as a London Fog. She said it was a nice alternative to coffee at Starbucks and still packs a little punch with a nice, warm embrace. This concoction featuring Earl Grey tea, vanilla syrup, a subtle hint of lavender, and some steamed milk promised a bright, citrusy spark of Italian bergamot blends for a frothy reimagination of a classic Earl Grey tea. I tried it a couple of weeks ago and really liked it. Other than it costing $17 (I exaggerate but not by much), it was a lovely experience. I’ve found I can recreate it at home pretty easily and much more economically by brewing one Tazo Earl Grey tea bag, tossing in a tablespoon of sugar and a splash of milk.

Podcasts

I’m late to this game, I realize, but I’ve just discovered two podcasts that I’m really enjoying.

First, Mo Rocca has a new one called Mobituaries. I listened to the one entitled “Sitcom Deaths and Disappearances” with Daddy last Thursday as we were running errands in the rain and it was really good. The theme was about characters on sitcoms that just vanished inexplicably or when actors were replaced mid-run without so much as a mention to the passing of the torch (think Darrin Stephens on Bewitched or Becky Connor on Roseanne). 

The second podcast I’ve taken to enjoying is Melanie Shankle’s The Big Boo Cast. Melanie is an author I’ve developed quite the crush on. She’s written a series of memoirs including The Antelope in the Living Room: The Real Story of Two People Sharing One Life, Sparkly Green Earrings: Catching the Light at Every Turn, Nobody’s Cuter Than You:  A Memoir About the Beauty of Friendship. My favorite of hers so far, though, is Church of the Small Things: The Million Little Pieces That Make Up a Life. Melanie is a girl after my own heart:  she’s Southern, loves Jesus, and is just trying to do life while being a decent friend, wife, mother, and daughter. Check her out. You’ll laugh. You’ll think. A friend described listening to Melanie and her friend who is the co-host of this podcast as akin to eavesdropping on someone having lunch with a friend and it's true. All the juice and none of the guilt. I'll have what she's having.

Absorbine Plus

Because I’m old. A couple of months ago, I hurt my knee. There wasn’t an exciting story or event around it. It just happened. For any youngsters who happen to be reading this (and I define “youngster” as 39 or younger), I must say this again and again with zero sugary coating:  it all falls apart after 40. Everything. Apart. This apparently includes the warranty on your joints. I finally went to ortho and did a brief stint in PT and am happy to say I’m not limping around like a 90-year-old any longer, but occasionally, especially when I’m going to bed, this one knee gets a “twinge.” Not a full blown hurt, but just a little “hey there, I’m here and thought I’d keep you from peacefully drifting off” kind of thing. I can remember my parents always having a then-glass bottle of Absorbine Jr. on hand. Bright green, deliciously smelly, and with a weird little sponge applicator tip, it was simply enchanting. Some things never change. Well, the glass bottle is now a BPA-free plastic bottle but everything else is the same. Anyway, I’ve found a little dab’ll do ya and I can sail away to dreamland smelling to high heavens.

Poshmark

Well, I fought this one for a good while, but I’ve since explored, discovered and become addicted. Poshmark is a shopping app where you can both buy and sell new and used clothing, jewelry, shoes and accessories. I avoided it for the longest as I didn’t need one more temptation to buy such items. But, the first of the year is a great time to clean out that closet and if you need some inspiration, just catch one episode of “Tidying Up with Marie Kondo” on Netflix. This little Japanese gal will have you folding and tossing and thanking things and sparking joy all over your house. Basically, you need to keep one pair of pants and two shirts and throw everything else away. Try listing it on Poshmark, though. It’s quick, simple, free and I have to admit, it’s pretty validating and thrilling when you get a notice than something has sold. You set your price, the app sends you a label to print, you pack that sucker up, slap the label on, drop it in the mail and it’s money in the bank.

Trader Joe’s Ultra Moisturizing Hand Cream

I discovered this lotion before the holidays and it’s simply amazing. It’s cheap (because it’s at TJ’s), it smells divine, it’s moisturizing while not being greasy and it lasts for quite a while, even through a hand washing or two. The only downside is it comes in a metal tube, which just seems unnecessarily bothersome. You have to take care of it, not toss it willy nilly in your purse, and be diligent when dispensing it and not just squeezing from the middle, but otherwise, it’s a wonderful product.

Tardigrades

Finally, I learned about tardigrades this week and it’s completely changed the way I view the world. Tardigrades are a microscopic organism known colloquially as “water bears” or “moss piglets.” Although smaller than a grain of rice, they resemble bears in their appearance and movement. They reside in moss near water sources such as creeks and rivers and were discovered in the 18th century. How on earth a scientist in the 1700s discovered such a thing is beyond my comprehension. I cannot think of these creatures and not immediately think of the Whos when Horton came to their rescue. A whole city of tardigrades could exist on a single clover!

I hope you’ve have a great week and have exciting plans for this weekend. For those of you here in middle Tennessee, I hope you enjoyed the blizzard that we experienced yesterday for 45 minutes and go ahead and pull out your swim suits as it’s going to be 70 this weekend.

Blessings and fruit tea,

Valerie


Disclaimer:  I've put a whole bunch of links in here to apps and products galore. If I was more applied or enterprising, I'd find out how to make money off of such a thing, but as it turns out, I'm just a helpful person with a servant's heart and I just don't like figuring out how to do new things so enjoy the links and know I'm not getting a fraction of a penny if you should buy something on the other end.

All I Want for Christmas...Is for Everyone to Calm Down

Let’s all ho-ho-hold on a minute and calm way down.

If you haven’t heard, it’s 2018, which means we all get in an uproar over any and everything. The latest thing we’ve gotten our knickers in a twist over is the beloved Christmas song, “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” Apparently, the #metoo movement and all easily-offended people have decided that this is the year we start banning holiday songs that disagree with our sense of right and wrong. Is it a strange song? Yes. Does it evoke images of Bill Cosby with lines such as “hey, what’s in this drink?” You bet your puddin’ pops. But should we be able to look the other way and just enjoy the classic? One would hope but who knows?

We aren’t supposed to listen to “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer” anymore as it promotes bullying. And “White Christmas” is harboring white supremacist notions. Hearing this makes me wonder what else we might have been turning a blind eye to.

“I’ll Be Home for Christmas” probably isn’t sensitive to the homeless.

“Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” excludes the overweight population.

“Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!” simply mocks the global warming enthusiasts.

“Santa Baby” is downright mysogynist and doesn’t empower women to make their own way, instead forcing them to rely on a man (in a red suit).

Elvis’ “Blue Christmas” is exclusionary of the other colors. And don’t even get me started on the offensive nature of the Porky Pig version.

“Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree…” where do I begin. Offensive to other genres of music and other holiday decorations.

“It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year?” Offensive to the other 364 days.

“Last Christmas” is offensive to this Christmas.

"Jingle Bells" single-handedly diminishes two-or-more-horse AND closed-style sleighs.

“Little Drummer Boy” could hurt the feelings of a Large Violin-Playing Gal.

“Do You Hear What I Hear?” is just asking for lawsuits from the hearing- and visually-impaired community.

“I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas” is offensive to all other animals and is especially hurtful to crocodiles and rhinosauruses.

I wonder what would happen if we, instead of being offended at every possible turn, looked for the positive, the good? Instead of pointing fingers, what if we gave high fives? Instead of scrutinizing, what about celebrating? And instead of being hyper-sensitive, what if we were hyper-positive and kind. In an effort to not exclude anyone or hurt anyone’s feelings, this behavior has the opposite effect. While we’re all busy tip-toeing around on egg shells, terrified of a misstep that will set off a land mine of accusations and insensitivity, we’re creating a culture of less. 

When I check out at a store, the clerk isn’t allowed to bestow a holiday greeting on me and, in turn, I don’t extend a “Merry Christmas” or a “Happy Holiday” for fear of offending them. So I wind up muttering “thank you” and going about my way. And it’s here where less isn’t more, but just, well, less.

All year long, I look forward to the few weeks at the end of the year when people are a little bit nicer, a little kinder. I like the acts of giving and receiving. I enjoy seeing my neighbors’ decorations and putting up my own. I take delight in both sending and receiving cards. And the music? Well, it’s as much a soundtrack of my life as it is my holiday. When I hear the old classics, I’m immediately taken back to my childhood, lying on my stomach on the living room floor, staring up at the Christmas tree. The laughter of souls long since departed wafts through the air, mingling with the scents of home cooking. I see prettily-wrapped gifts and remember a kinder, gentler time. There’s music playing. Wonderful, magical music. And all I think is I couldn’t love these people, these memories, or this time of year more. Let’s get back to this level of sensibility where the only snowflakes are the ones on our noses and eyelashes.

The Art of Quitting

Whether it’s from a job, a marriage, a friendship, or an obligation, the act of walking away is an art form.

A friend of mine recently shared that, after a few years of participation, her child was choosing to leave a sport in which she had been very active. Although not solicited or warranted, there was an unspoken sense of apology, embarrassment and the need to explain in the air. I assured my friend that I, too, had walked this path with my own child, that it happens, it’s fairly commonplace these days, and there was no need for shame or explanation. It got me thinking, though, about our children, the busy lives they lead, and the oppressive pressure we, as a society, place on them to commit and then follow through. How many times did you hear “quitters never win” as a child? How many times have we forced our child to see a sport or activity they didn’t like through to the end? When I look at my own track record, I can’t help but feel just the slightest bit of hypocrisy.

Take, for instance, the time I considered quitting my job to work from home, making, selling and delivering gift baskets. That was two different quits at stake there and a whole lot of poor planning. There’s the time I signed up for three sessions of kick boxing and thought I might want to get certified and become an instructor. I completed one class. Thinking further back, I remember wanting to set up a lemonade stand. It was a hot summer day and I decided to try my hand at entrepreneurship. I set up a shaky card table at the end of our driveway and a metal lawn chair with some very questionable webbing. We didn’t actually have any lemonade but I found a packet of Kool-Aid and promised my mother I would return her prized Tupperware pitcher. With a roll of quarters, a stack of cups, a poster announcing my venture, and the equivalent of hummingbird food, I took off for my corner office beside our mailbox. And I waited. And I waited. The relentless sun beat down on my head as the realization that we lived on a cul-de-sac and traffic was all but non-existent sank in. I put up a good fight as I sat there and sipped more than half of my inventory, but after eight or nine minutes, I cut my losses, packed up my shop and headed back inside. Maybe my first foray into giving up was offset by my self-induced sugar high, but I feel like I was able to shake it off fairly easily. No one berated me or lectured me about following through. Maybe they should have.

During my school years, I added to my resignation resume with abbreviated turns with dance, baby sitting, and an ill-fated stint with a local Jazzercise group. By college, I was a semi-pro. Didn’t like a class or a professor? Drop it like it’s hot. Don’t like a boss or a co-worker or the hours at a job? Another minimum-wage shift awaited just around the corner. Reading a book that’s slow and seemingly going nowhere? Return that sucker to the library and check out two others in its place. Boy trouble? Don’t get me started.

Is there value in seeing something through to its end? Of course. In fact, I think it’s one of the cornerstones of our society and civilization as we know it. State what you’re going to do and then do it. Plain and simple. If you sign up to volunteer at the bake sale, you’d better darn well run through the grocery on your way there, replate those cookies on your own platter and walk into school with your head held high. If your child decides after two games that soccer isn’t their sport and they don’t want to go back, I think the response is, “hey, buddy, I hear what you’re saying. I’ve tried activities before that I didn’t enjoy once I got started, too. Here’s what we need to do, though. I need you to finish the season out. Your coach and the other players need you. If you still don’t like it at the end of the season, we’ll take all of your equipment to the second-hand sports equipment store and get pennies on the dollar for what I paid for all of this and we’ll move on to the next venture. And, if you decide you actually like it, then it’s a win-win.” Let’s be honest. When we sign our littles up for all these teams, are we truly thinking they’re going to be the next Serena, LeBron, or Tiger or are we wanting them to make friends, be active and learn to work with others? If they can’t end the season with a college scholarship, maybe they can walk away with the pride of accomplishment and the value that seeing something through to its end brings.

Throughout my life, one of my guiding principles, one of my North stars when faced with the dilemma of cutting bait or seeing something through is taking Kenny Rogers’ advice. The art of knowing when to fold them, hold them, walk away or run is just that — an art form. There is a time and place for everything. Mid-July at the end of a cul-de-sac will never be either of those things. Now, excuse me while I enjoy a nice glass of Kool-Aid.